


Jenna

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Dark Tower - King
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-21
Updated: 2001-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roland's ka-tet have an encounter with someone from Roland's past.</p><p>Dedicated to Lady Togemon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jenna

**Author's Note:**

> Roland and the rest of the characters used herein belong to Stephen King. I apologise for anything that's not consistent with the Dark Tower series or with anything it should be consistent with, which seems to be the majority of King's works.

They had been walking for a good few days since leaving what Eddie insisted upon calling the Emerald City, and this far there had been no sign of anyone else using the same road as they were. From Susannah's wheel-tracks to the elegant and tiny prints of Oy's feet, theirs were the only marks in the sand that finely covered everything out here, even them if they paused for too long. It seemed they were truly in a part of the land which had moved on.

The grassy plain they had travelled across for a day and a half had given way to sand with clumps of grass, and finally to sand on its own. When they came to the store later, it was this sand which had clogged the automatic doors open, giving the place a look of hunger. It had unnerved all of them. The sand got into everything.

The only thing that had broken the monotony of their trip for the past three days was the gas station. Brooding and dark, it had loomed up on the horizon on the morning of the second day, and by lunch of the third they had reached it. Sand drifts had built up around the rusted pumps, and a feeling of death hung over the entire place. There was even a car - burnt out, its occupant long since gone or dead -- parked in the forecourt.

Attached to the gas station was a small convenience store, and inside they had found more food to stock up with: Slim Jims and potato chips, typical road-fare, but it would help.

But besides the food there was a plethora of strange items. Magazines, which didn't belong in Roland's world at all, and featured glossy bright pictures of Hollywood stars Roland had never even heard of. Dog food and plastic tarpaulins, souvenir keyrings ('Where Th' Hell is Aviva, Kansas?' read the one that Susannah picked up curiously) and chunks of volcanic rock, and dozens more items besides.

However, the one that caught Roland's eyes was the shoes. There was a rack of shoes near the back of the store, alongside a larger rack of assorted clothing. As Roland moved quickly to examine the footwear, Eddie had realised what had caught his eye and joined him. Jake was absorbed in packing food into his backpack, but looked up at the flurry of movement. Even Susannah, the wheels of her chair gritting and sticking in the sand that had blown inside, was moving.

'Well found, Roland old son,' Eddie had said cheerily, clapping him on the back. 'Maybe I can escape this feeling that my feet are about to drop off now.'

Roland held a pair of New Balance sneakers in his hands, turning them over, frowning. 'It's almost as if someone put these here for us to find,' he had murmured.

'Sorry, but did I just hear you say something paranoid?' Eddie cupped a hand behind his ear and leaned forward. 'Roland, my man, if you don't let me wear a pair of these, I'll take them off you and bludgeon you to death with them.'

Roland had smiled briefly at that. 'I suppose you would,' he agreed. He had handed the New Balance shoes to Eddie, then. 'Take these. I think they're your size.'

'All _right_!' Jake said, joining them. He had been complaining of sore feet for the past two days. 'Where're mine?'

Roland had looked down at the boy's grimy feet, then back at the rack, then reached out and plucked a pair of sneakers off the topmost row, handing them over before turning his attention to finding a pair for himself.

That afternoon, when they had found the shoes, had been the only bright spot in days of trudging along the hardtop in the hot sunshine, the only _different_ thing in days of staring ahead to the horizon, which was as flat and straight as the road itself.

But now there was something else.

* * *

Roland had had the feeling that something was going to happen since they'd left the 'Emerald City'. The discovery of the gas station and store had not been it. Furthermore, he was noticing things that nobody else seemed to see: small trails made in the dust, as if myriads of ants had suddenly formed a convoy and were headed for the Tower. But ants didn't leave trails that were this noticeable.

Setting off on the morning of the third day, Roland was gazing down the road while the others got organised: Eddie kicked sand over the remnants of their last night's fire; Jake fastened the straps of his pack and slung it over his back; Susannah rolled her chair back and forth to shake the sand from the wheels. Roland was already prepared, and had been for some time.

'Hey, Roland, what're you looking at?' Eddie called.

'Nothing,' Roland said. 'At least, I can't _see_ anything. I'm sure there's something there to look at.'

Jake made a disparaging (and rather rude) sound between his pursed lips. 'There's _nothing_ there to look at. It's just sand and road and it goes on and on forever. Right, Oy?'

'Oy!' the billy-bumbler agreed wholeheartedly.

'Don't worry, sugar,' Susannah said cheerfully. 'If there's nothing today, there'll be something tomorrow, or the next day.'

'Or never,' Eddie said.

'Quiet,' Roland said suddenly. All four of the others fell silent. Roland had his head cocked to the side, listening over the howl of the wind which frequently rose up out here, listening for something Eddie doubted like hell he could really hear.

'What is it, Roland?' Susannah asked after a few minutes, when it became apparent that nobody else was going to ask. 'What can you hear?'

Roland looked at her. 'Singing,' he said, and refused to elaborate.

* * *

A few hours later, they saw the girl.

She was sitting at the side of the road, on a rock which rose out of the sand. She wore white robes and had the hood up, covering her hair; but a black curl fell across her forehead. Her face was half-turned away, but still Roland saw the black curl, and recognised it: it was an image that had been burned into his brain many years ago, when he had last seen it, under the light of the Kissing Moon.

'Jenna,' he whispered, and his voice was rusty.

'Who?' Jake asked, sounding puzzled, but Roland did not hear him. He walked towards the girl on the rock, hands held out in front of him in half-supplication. His eyes strayed to the sand that dusted the road; the ant-tracks led up to this rock, and they did not lead away again.

The girl turned her head when Roland touched her on the shoulder. She was partly obscured by the gunslinger standing between her and them, but Roland's _ka-tet_ still saw her face. Porcelain-white skin marked with a rose in each cheek; long waves of black, glossy hair tumbling down to frame her face; dark eyes that drew the heart in and mesmerised the mind.

'Jenna,' Roland said again, stumbling over his speech, almost like an adolescent. 'How...?'

Jenna -- if that was indeed her name - smiled, reached up, and laid a finger over his lips. 'Roland,' she said softly. 'I know ye, so I do. I'm here to ask ye if I may travel with ye.'

'Jenna,' Roland said a third time, this time seeming to savour the name. 'Of course.'

* * *

During the course of the day they travelled many miles. Roland always estimated the distance when nightfall came and it was time to make camp, and today they had seemingly travelled two miles more than usual. He was uncharacteristically proud when the group came to the fire that night, and Susannah remarked on it.

'You look happier than I've seen you in a long time,' she said as she stretched out and put her head in Eddie's lap. 'What's the story, morning glory?'

Roland looked about for Jenna, and saw that she was standing up on the road, looking up at the stars. Hesitantly, then with more conviction in his voice, he launched into the tale of his encounter with the Little Sisters of Eluria. Halfway through the telling, he became aware that Jenna had rejoined them, but this did not stop him.

'Is that _true_?' Eddie asked when Roland had finished, with his usual note of incredulity in his voice. 'I mean...'

'Every word,' Jenna said in her soft voice. She looked directly into Eddie's eyes, and he felt reassured... but her gaze gave him a strange feeling, an indefinable feeling, but one that felt very close to a kind of fear. 'He speaks true.' She slid a hand into the pocket of her robes and drew out a partly-rotted piece of cloth with a cluster of bells attached to it. She did not shake it, but all the same the bells made a muted jingle. The sound struck a chord with Roland, who had not expected to hear it ever again.

Susannah drew in a deep breath. 'Are they the Dark Bells?'

'That they are,' Jenna assured her, 'and still bearing all their power, so I do believe. Though I've not tried them for many a year.'

'I thought you were gone,' Roland said, 'that night... I thought you were gone into the doctor-bugs.'

'Nay.' Jenna laughed, and even her laughter sounded like the bells. 'That's not the case, and ye know it. I mean... ye know it _now_. And I'm sorry for making ye doubt me.'

'Would the bells call the bugs if you used them now?' Jake asked.

'Mayhap,' Jenna said, looking over at the boy. 'But would ye be the one to call the _can tem_ down on yer head, cully?' Her dark eyes gleamed with some kind of mischief. She still appeared to be very young. 'Go on then -- try it.' And she nudged the bells toward Jake.

Jake's eyes widened. 'I didn't mean--'

'Enough,' the gunslinger interrupted. 'Jake, you should try to sleep now. We've still to travel tomorrow, Jenna with us or not.'

'And I'll not be the one to deprive ye of yer sleep,' Jenna put in. 'I'm sorry if I scared ye, Jake, and I cry your pardon.' Yet still her eyes danced with some hidden secret.

They all went to their sleeping-places then, Jake curling up with Oy on their single tattered blanket, Eddie and Susannah retiring to their shared bed as well.

Roland and Jenna slept alone.

* * *

_He was standing in the low hills outside Eluria, looking down at the ground. Slowly, but with increasing speed, the group of black doctor-bugs -- the _can tem _\- was forming into the shape of a 'C', or the shape of the curl that lay across Jenna's forehead. Soon they were the only thing he could see, that dark shape on the pale-dust ground, and he stared. Then, when the bells dropped from his hand and hit the ground with a discordant chime, the _can tem_ scattered._

* * *

Roland woke from his dream with a frown on his lips. Surely -- surely there was no way... could this _really_ be Jenna?

He looked across the ashes of the burnt-out campfire, straight into her dark eyes. Neither frown nor smile graced her pretty lips. Her expression was one of waiting. She was expecting something.

'Good morning, Sister Jenna.'

She made a turning-away sign with her hand. 'Away with ye, ye cull,' she said. 'I'll not hear that word from yer lips again, Roland of Gilead, or I'll kill ye.' She smiled as she said it though, and after a moment, Roland smiled back.

'Did you sleep well?' he asked.

'Well enough,' Jenna said. 'Well enough when my companions are distrustful of me.'

Roland sat up and hugged his knees, looking across at her still. 'Who's distrustful?'

'Well, ye are, to begin with.'

'I trust ye,' Roland said, trying not to wince at the change in his speech. _The friends maketh the man_, he thought, and shook his head at himself. 'And the others trust ye as well, Jenna. There's no mistake there. You're just different, that's all -- different and meant to be dead. But then, so is Jake meant to be dead. Ye belong here, Jenna -- they'll understand it in time. It's _ka_.'

'_Ka_, the great wheel,' Jenna said. She stood up and walked around the fire to sit beside him on his blanket. 'It rolled over me, but I came back.' The comment was strange, but no stranger than some Roland had heard in his time. But the image of the doctor-bugs forming that curl rose unbidden to the front of his mind again, and he shook his head to dispel it.

'I'm glad,' he heard himself reply.

Jenna looked up at him, dark eyes dancing, then reached out and cupped a hand around the back of his head, fingers curving to the shape of his skull. She drew him down to her level, and kissed him.

Something had certainly changed, Roland reflected. No longer were her kisses tentative, the kisses of one who has never done such a thing before; now they were intense, hungry even, and there was a depth of passion behind them that he had encountered only once before.

He pushed the thought of Susan from his mind and embraced Jenna, delighting in the touch of her mouth on his, in the heady sweet taste of her, in the feel of her hands straining to hold him even closer, trying to pull him into her.

When they separated, long minutes later, Roland felt dazed. Jenna, on the other hand, looked dangerously alert. The smile that curved her lips had a predatory look to it, and for a second her upper lip peeled back from her teeth in a sneer. Then Roland blinked, and the vision was gone. Jenna was just smiling her usual sweet smile, and looked no more dangerous than a kitten.

'It's been a long time, so it has,' she said softly.

'Yes.' He could say nothing more for the time being; the sound of someone stirring came from around the fire, and Roland stood up quickly, almost pushing Jenna away. She didn't act hurt, though -- if anything, her smile grew wider. She stood as well, and went over to Jake, who had stirred in his sleep and was tossing and turning restlessly.

'Is it time to go?' were his first words as he came out of whatever dark dream had held him. He blinked up at Jenna, smiling shyly. 'Oh. Hi.'

'Hello, lad. Yes, it's almost time to go, but not just yet. Get ye up and have some breakfast.' One slim, capable hand brushed his hair from his forehead, and she leaned down and kissed his smooth brow. Jake grinned selfconsciously and got to his feet, shaking Oy to wake him up. The billy-bumbler wriggled free of the ragged blanket and barked once, then ran over to lick Eddie's face.

'Get this mutt off me, Jake,' Eddie mumbled from the depths of sleep. Oy barked in his ear, and Eddie sat bolt upright, saying a word which Jake's mother had once expressly forbidden him to use. Jake laughed at the look on Eddie's face, and Eddie growled at him, waving him away. Still laughing, Jake hunkered down beside his pack and started looking for something for breakfast.

* * *

Again, that day, they seemed to travel further with Jenna amongst them than usual. She encouraged Jake when he complained of fatigue, joked -- a little -- with Eddie, and helped Susannah twice when her wheelchair got stuck in sand-drifts that had built up across the road.

Roland watched her all day, silently admiring her beauty and tenacity. She was no longer exactly the same as he had first known her, but time changed all people, of course, and he'd warrant that she thought the same of him. Every once in a while she would look over at him and their eyes would meet, and every time this happened the memory of the morning's kiss would sear across Roland's mind.

The only sore point between Jenna and any of Roland's _ka-tet_ was between the newcomer and Susannah. They seemed to speak readily enough, and civilly enough, and Jenna was always ready to help Susannah, but Roland sensed a tension in the black woman that he had never noticed before. Once he saw Susannah's back physically stiffen when Jenna spoke to her, and Jenna saw it too, for she backed away and did not try to speak to Susannah for another hour.

When they paused for a quick lunch, made up mainly of Slim Jims and cans of the strange Coca-Cola substitute, Nozz-A-La, Roland took it on himself to speak to Susannah about it. Jenna had gracefully excused herself and gone off to a stand of bushes some fifty yards out onto the plain on the other side of the road.

Roland squatted beside Susannah's chair. She looked down at him with her bright dark eyes.

'What's the matter, sugar?'

'Why are you nervous around Jenna?'

Susannah laughed. 'You do believe in being direct, don't you?'

Roland nodded. ''Tis the best way to get an answer, or so I've found.' He looked up at her, eyes soft. Susannah recognised the expression in them, and thought to herself, _She's trapped him. I don't know how, and I don't know if he knows, but she's trapped him._

Aloud she said, 'I'm not _really_ nervous. She's just... she's someone _new_, and in my experience of your world, new is hardly ever good.'

Roland nodded again. 'Worry not, Susannah. Jenna is good. She has helped me before, and I warrant she's here to help us all again.' He looked over to where Jenna was now kneeling on the road, poking at something she had spotted. 'I'd best go see what she's found.'

As he stood and turned away from Susannah, he saw one dark hand drop to the butt of the gun at her hip. He was sure she didn't know she'd done it, as well.

Jenna was still kneeling in the sand when Roland came up to her, and looking at something drawn on the hardtop. She looked up when he came and stood beside her, and there was a strange look in her eyes.

'What's this?' she asked. ''Tis a strange _sigul_, and no mistake!' The blood in Roland's veins ran cold at the sight of the image she was pointing to.

Drawn in fresh, red blood on the black hardtop of the road was the Staring Eye, _sigul_ of the Crimson King.

''Tis the _sigul_ of the Crimson King, Jenna,' Roland said. His voice was steady -- too steady. 'Ye've heard of him, no doubt?'

The look on her face gave him the answer before she nodded. 'Aye. I've heard o' this one. The Crimson King, the Good Man, the Walkin Man, and many a name I'd hate to repeat.' She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. 'Ye don't think he's after _us_, do ye?'

Roland knelt beside her and put his arms around her. 'I think that even if he _is_, he'll have a job to battle us,' he said, lips brushing against the soft silk of her hair. The hood of her robes was down, her hair tumbling free, and Roland longed to plunge his hands deep into that glossy mass. He restrained himself, however.

'Ye'll protect us, won't ye, Roland?'

'Of course.'

Jenna got to her feet, then kicked sand over the bloody _sigul_. 'Good,' she said, sounding supremely satisfied.

As she walked back to the others, Susannah saw the blood on her fingers, and wondered.

* * *

The stars were already out by the time the party came to a halt that night. Eddie was humming 'Taps' as he and Jake piled what wood they could find for the fire. Susannah lit it, this time, and by the flickering light looked across to where Roland and Jenna were talking softly, heads close together.

_You may not think she's trouble, Roland, _she thought_, but I think any woman who has blood on her fingers and doesn't bother to wash it off -- no matter how it got there -- is someone to be watched._

That afternoon, Susannah had pointed out the blood to Jenna, who had looked at her hand, unsurprised, then done nothing about the red stain. Susannah supposed she had touched the _sigul_ \-- Roland had shown it to them, half-buried in the sand, before they continued on their way - but to ignore the stain on her hands was strange.

Roland was holding Jenna's hand now, looking at it in the firelight, then dipped a corner of his blanket in some water and wiped the blood away carefully. Susannah watched them.

'I think she's crazy,' Eddie said softly, directly into Susannah's ear. She jumped - she hadn't known he was there.

'Why?' she murmured back.

'She's like Lady Macbeth. 'Out, damned spot'. Shakespeare. She was crazy too.'

'Nearly,' said Susannah. 'You're forgetting one thing, though.'

'What's that?'

'Jenna,' said Susannah, 'doesn't _want_ to get rid of that blood.'

* * *

That night Jenna came to Roland's blanket as she had that morning. He could hear the faint sound of singing from somewhere, but put it down to the insects that lived - somehow -- out in this barren land.

They held each other for a long moment, looking up at the stars, before Jenna touched her lips to his. Roland kissed her back willingly, holding her close. She was warm in his arms and her body moulded to his as if made for it. Tiny moans escaped her throat as he kissed the side of her neck, down onto the slopes of her breasts.

'If you love me, then love me,' she breathed in his ear.

Roland stiffened and pulled away from her, his own breathing becoming jagged. Of course, Jenna didn't know why those words would affect him so, but she seemed to understand anyway.

The singing sound grew louder.

'Roland...'

'Aye.' He wiped a single errant tear from his cheek, fingers grazing lightly over the stubble of a few days. 'Sorry.'

Jenna smiled at him, then laid one hand on his chest, palm flat, fingertips making tiny circles on the fabric of his shirt. With the other hand she worked on his buttons, one by one, until she could pull his shirt open and rest her hands on his bare skin. She pushed him down onto the blanket and leaned over him, claiming a kiss. Roland pushed up against her reflexively, and she smiled down at him. Again, it seemed predatory, but with a blink the thought was gone. All that filled Roland's mind was Jenna -- Jenna, and the strange singing sound that seemed to have come closer, surrounding their camp.

'I love ye, ye know,' Jenna crooned, running the fingers of one hand through his hair. Her other hand traced lazy circles on his bare chest. 'I missed ye all these years...'

Roland reached up and pulled her down to his level, kissing her deeply. 'And I ye, Jenna,' he said, not knowing if it was true or not, knowing only that if she spent any longer teasing him like this he would explode with need.

She smiled again, and this time there was no mistake; she was the predator, and he her prey. 'Good,' she said, leaning down to kiss him again.

The singing sound was unbearably loud now, ringing in his ears, smothering him, and Roland gasped and tried to push her away, realising only as her face began to change from smooth white skin to dark specks that sang for their supper that he had been fooled, that this was not Jenna at all, but before he could push her away a gunshot rang out and the creature straddling him let out a wild shriek.

Thousands -- no, _millions_ \-- of dark specks, the _can tem_, scattered in every direction from the hem and the neck and the sleeves of the robe, and as Roland sat up and pushed it frantically away from him, swatting at the _can tem_, doctor-bugs that could eat a victim alive, he looked across the embers of the dying fire and saw Susannah propped up on her elbow with her gun still aimed at him. The expression on her face was that of utter terror, and Roland realised his must be much the same.

'I saw them,' she said shakily. 'Her legs... they just sort of decayed and started _moving_...' She dropped the gun, covered her face with her hands, and began to cry. Eddie stirred in his sleep and threw an arm across her without waking up. Jake, on the other side of the dead fire, mumbled something in _his_ sleep and buried his head in Oy's fur. The billy-bumbler whimpered, but did not move. Whatever spell Jenna had laid over Roland, it had extended to the others as well... but Susannah was female, and thus not as vulnerable. But Jake and Eddie and Oy slept on, the gunshot never awakening them, perhaps only echoing as a sound in their dreams.

Roland took several deep breaths. 'You saved my life.' One dark eye peered from between her fingers as she shook her head. 'You _did_.' No more 'ye' -- that was gone with the _can tem_.

'All right then, I _did_, what_ever_, just... just let me go back to sleep and forget all about her, _please_!'

Roland moved to kneel beside her. He started one of his shells dancing across his fingers, and she followed it with her eyes, her breathing beginning to slow, her heartbeat settling down from its frantic racing to a steady beat, and soon her eyelids sagged and she fell back down onto the blanket, asleep.

Roland reached out and moved the gun back to its usual place, then stayed a moment longer, watching her.

'Susannah Dean, I owe you my life,' he said softly.

Somewhere out on the plain, something dark sang.


End file.
